The Unorthodox Return of Sherlock Holmes
by 12crazythomas
Summary: After being gone for two years Sherlock just randomly pops up. There isn't a plot to this, just how me and my friend thought he could have come back.


_I got bored again, so me and my friend Danielle wrote this before I read The Empty House. This is how I perceived his return, minus some elements in this individual story._

"I'm not dead, and come along because I'm in the midst of a case!" Holmes shouted as he just strolled into the room. Watson had been working at his desk, not having a care in the world. He looked up to see the great Sherlock Holmes, alive and just as mad as usual.

"Wait, what?! Can we talk about this?!" Watson shouted. Holmes just walked out, expecting Watson to follow him. And of course, Watson did follow him.

"How have you been?" Holmes asked after they were in a carriage going somewhere only Holmes and the deaf cabbie were aware of.

"Holmes?! You've been gone for two- I thought that you've been _dead_ for two years- and this is all you have to say to me?!" Watson shouted.

"It's nice to see you again, Watson, without having to disguise myself from you." Holmes said in a calm tone.

"You disguised yourself to be around me and never once thought to let me know you were alright!" Watson snapped.

"I couldn't risk your safety." Holmes said.

"Damn my safety! I mourned your death, Holmes, for two years I mourned you!" Watson retorted.

"Sorry, Watson, but precautions had to be made."

"Precautions!" Watson exclaimed. "I went to your funeral. I still wake up crying!"

"How's the wife? Did you enjoy renewing your vows?" Holmes asked.

"… You were there?" Watson asked, looking shocked.

"Of course I was."

"That's… I don't know whether to be amazed or angry." Watson stammered.

"I was the elderly woman that Mary grew irritated with." Holmes rambled.

"I… that's bloody amazing, but I'm still angry."

"Well I'm here now so hello again, my Boswell."

"… Hello." Watson said in defeat.

"How have you been?" He asked.

"Oh, except for mourning the death of my best friend, I've been well… and you?" Watson curtly said.

"Good. Save for having to watch a certain dear friend of mine from afar, not being able to interact with this friend in fear that friends of Professor Moriarty would harm him." Holmes dryly said. Watson nodded and looked out the window.

After a pause he said to Holmes, "If I wake up and this is all a dream, I will only be angrier at you for leaving." He said, not looking at the consulting detective.

"You must dream about this often." Holmes deducted.

"Only a few times a week when we go on another amazing adventure… but once in my dream you just showed up without a case. We talked, had dinner and you got bored and played my favorite pieces on your violin until I dozed." Watson explained his voice breaking. In a rare occurrence, Holmes's face looked crestfallen.

"I do apologize for doing this to you, but it was the only way to assure your definite safety." He explained.

"I understand." Watson said, still looking out the window and not at Holmes.

"Watson… you _know_ I would have tried to speak to you if I could have, do you not?" Holmes asked.

"I know. Believe me when I say I understand," Watson replied. All the while he still looked out the window. Holmes didn't like seeing Watson upset with him like this.

"You still think this is a dream." He surmised.

"A little… but my dreams are not realistic. You don't rouse these mixed emotions in me in the dreams." Watson explained, just barely glancing at Holmes before going back to the window. Holmes moved to Watson's side of the carriage and looked at him, even going so far as to take off his hat to look at him better.

"Watson, I would appreciate it if you would look at me." Holmes requested.

"I… I cannot. I fear you will think the worst of me." Watson stoically replied.

"Why would I perceive that?" Holmes asked. Watson turned to face Holmes, tears glittering in his eyes and down his face. Holmes watched him. "I didn't foresee that my departure would affect you so." Holmes kindly said to him, a sorrowful expression on his face.

Watson wiped his eyes and said, "You are my dearest friend. How could it not hurt me so?" He asked.

"No one has ever cared about me the way you have you have… I didn't know…." Holmes said.

"Well that is my proof that this is truly you and that I am not dreaming…. You're alive." Watson said in wonder. Holmes grinned.

"That I am." He said. Watson smiled for the first time.

"What amazing adventure are we on our way to now then?" He asked.

"Right now… it's to Baker Street and then on to somewhere else," Holmes said, happy now that Watson was happy.

"Oh I haven't been back in Baker Street in… quite some time. Does Mrs. Hudson know?" Watson asked.

"I came round this morning to tell her that I had been the older gentleman living in 221b for the past year. She was rather excited and at last understood why this man was not responsive to her advances." Holmes explained as the carriage stopped. Watson couldn't help but laugh.

"Only the great Sherlock Holmes could conduct such a hiding place." He remarked.

"I found it to be quite ingenious." He said as he stepped out of the carriage and paid the cabbie.

"Indeed it was," Watson complimented him, following close at his heels. 221b was just the same as when Watson last saw it, even down to the papers strewn everywhere and the stench of chemicals everywhere. Watson smiled and breathed in the smell. Holmes took off his coat and looked around with a small smile on his face.

"Now everything is as it should be," he mumbled to himself. Watson smiled.

"I wanted to name my first child after you." He said conversationally. Holmes looked over at him, hands in his pockets.

"Oh… really?" He queried.

"Yes, but it was a girl and Mary didn't go for naming a girl Sherlock Maria Watson." He said, chuckling.

"Good woman." Holmes said with a laugh. "A rarity in this day and age… that would have been a good name, I think." Holmes said.

"Yes, well I thought it was nice, but she has a beautiful name Mary picked out." He said, smiling.

"It is… along with being an elderly man and woman I was also one of the nurses that held your daughter in the room." Holmes absentmindedly said as he sat in his chair. Watson looked at Holmes.

"You, Mr. Holmes, are amazing." Holmes flushed up in happiness at the flattery.

"What did you think of the name then?" He asked.

"I liked it, though it is not something you would have picked." Holmes said. Watson smiled and sat down and everything looked like it did two years ago, just the way it was before Holmes "died" and Watson thought perhaps it will be just like he never left. Holmes watched his companion with an inward smile. Seeing Watson and being able to interact with him openly made Holmes happier than he had ever been in his life.

"What is our sport today?" Watson suddenly asked, remembering why Holmes had stolen him in the first place.

"Oh!" Holmes shouted as he too remembered and jumped up. Watson smiled at the quirks of his good friend, only reinforcing that this was in fact reality and not an amazing dream. "Come along, Watson, we have an important matter to attend to!" Holmes shouted and dashed out the door. Watson smiled and ran after his friend, knowing the facts would come to him in due time. Holmes hailed a carriage and jumped into it. His biographer was right at his heels, almost jumping into the cab in anticipation to play this great game again. Holmes smiled at him as the carriage took off. Watson settled into the carriage smiling. "It's nice to have a companion accompanying me again," Holmes said to him.

"It's an immense pleasure to be back on the hunt," Watson replied.

"It's just as pleasurable for me to have you back." Watson smiled and offered up pleasant conversation. In an odd and rare manner, Holmes eagerly responded to Watson's conversation pieces. Eventually, though, they fell into a small silence.

"I sort of got involved with someone during my time as London's ghost." Holmes suddenly blurted.

"You?! …With a woman?" Watson questioned.

"We have to stop by this person's home to pick up my Stradivarius." Holmes explained.

"I'm… well, I think I'm glad for you, but I'm not exactly sure what to say…." Watson said a look of barely suppressed surprise on his face.

"It's fine, Watson." Holmes said with a wave of his hand. "You'll get to meet him soon enough."

"I'm sorry, my hearing must be funny, for a second I thought you said _him_." Watson said with a smile. Holmes just cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Oh!" Watson gasped when the realization hit him. "Not that there's a problem with- it's perfectly fine, I didn't mean to… it's just I never thought…. Umm what was his name?" He floundered.

"…You never knew that I preferred men?" Holmes asked with an air of amusement.

"To be honest I never knew you preferred any sex." Watson confessed with a friendly smile. Holmes studied Watson for a moment, appearing to be debating something.

"His name is, ironically enough, John. John Price." Holmes said.

"Do you two still… see one another?" Watson asked. Holmes shrugged.

"It depends." He remarked. "I almost had Price move into our suite on Baker Street, but an argument suppressed that notion."

"Oh…. Was the argument over either one of your experiments, your cocaine, or a case?" Watson asked.

"It was about you." Holmes simply said.

"What? Why me?" He asked in surprise.

"I kept comparing him to you. It irritated him to no end." Holmes said.

"Oh, well now that you have your accomplice back… you could… maybe it would be easier for you two to be together." Watson said.

"We'll see…." Holmes said, trailing off.

"Holmes?" Watson asked.

"Yes?" Holmes replied.

"I thought you were saying something." Watson told him.

"You were mistaken." Holmes said his thoughts obviously on something important to him. Watson nodded, knowing that he would get his answers to this mystery soon enough. They came upon their destination where a man was standing outside the house, watching for something. "Ah! There he is now!" Holmes said and got out. Watson got out as well but kept a polite distance. Holmes's boyfriend- Watson felt slightly uncomfortable calling this man a title like that- John Price was a bit tall and intimidating with rugged, oddly handsome features. Like Holmes, he appeared to be more of the asexual type. Watson saw that he appeared to be the sort that would be good match for his lonely friend and hoped that they could work things out. "Price!" Holmes greeted. Price's glare lightened considerably when he saw him. Watson wondered about why he was greeting a lover formally, but filed it under as "just another Sherlock Holmes quirk."

"Holmes," Price said, his accent heavily American ("Of course he would be American," Watson said to himself), but they didn't shake hands. Instead they gave each other this odd, intense stare that only lasted a moment or two. Watson watched this exchange and smiled. Anyone else could see it and think nothing of it, but knowing what he knew of Holmes he thought his friend had hope.

"This is my dear friend, Dr. John Watson." Holmes suddenly said and turned towards him. Price focused his intense gaze on Watson.

"It is an honor, sir." Watson said, extending his hand. Price firmly shook Watson's hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet the man Sherlock Holmes never shuts up about." He said with a barking laugh. Watson smiled. "So what did you come by for this time?" Price demanded of Holmes.

"My violin." Holmes snapped and rudely entered Price's house. Price watched him go inside and then turned to Watson.

"Come on in," He said as if this were completely normal and walked into his home. Watson sighed and then looked at Price.

"He brought his violin here?" He questioned.

"Yes- his Stradivarius, in fact. I have one just alike and he wanted to 'play a tune with me.' Obviously, the man never really left." Price casually said. Watson tried not to let on that he was impressed, though he was sure it was evident on his face. Whether it was or wasn't Price paid it no mind. He walked into his study where Holmes was, lounging on the couch that he had obviously claimed and ritualistically scrapping away at his violin as if he were at home. "This is my home, and this is the couch Holmes's been systematically living on for a year." Price told Watson.

"That is believable." Watson said with a small smile.

"I would ask if you would like tea or any sort of drink but we blew up the kitchen yesterday, my tea and liquor cabinet along with it." Price said. Watson's smile broadened.

"That's why when we lived together there was a designated part of the kitchen for experiments away from the breakables… but that was after the third tea set." Price glared at Holmes.

"That's what you were supposed to get today- another tea set!" He snapped. Watson instantly knew to be quiet, interfering in a lover's quarrel- especially one involving Holmes- was a bad idea. Holmes's gray eyes widened.

"I had completely forgotten about that!" He exclaimed. Price chuckled.

"Don't worry about it." He told Holmes with a smile. Watson smiled at the exchange. They made an alright match.

"We met at an opium den." Price said suddenly like Holmes always did, moving his smiling gaze to Watson. Watson smiled politely enough, but it was through practice that the smile didn't disappear when he heard this.

"Oh really?" He said conversationally.

"Yes, Holmes here was investigating a murder- the same one I was, actually." Price explained. That tidbit made Watson feel better.

"Oh, are you in the habit of solving cases?" Watson asked, wondering if there were two consulting detectives now running amuck.

"I'm a detective in Scotland Yard, probably the only good one. I joined when I moved here two years ago from Ohio." Price said.

"Have you ever worked with Lestrade?"

"Unfortunately…." Price laughed. Watson smiled and laughed with him.

"So are the three of us to go on an amazing adventure tonight?" Watson queried.

"Maybe." Holmes said as he continued to pick at his violin, causing it to make short screeching noises. Watson smiled quietly and waited for Holmes to tell him.

"We're going to catch the serial killer responsible for the murders this past year tonight at the opium den." Price explained.

"What is our course of action?" Watson asked.

"Stay here for dinner and then go to the opium den." Price said.

"That sounds delightful." Watson said, realizing that Holmes came to call on him before his meal.

"What do we have here to eat?" Price asked. Holmes shrugged and continued to scratch on his violin. "You ate all the cake today, Holmes; I know you know what's in the fridge. You're in it more than I am." Price said. Watson smiled as he watched the exchange. They acted like a married couple, he speculated himself. And the fact that Holmes had actually eaten cake was even more surprising.

"I didn't eat all of the cake; I simply ate what was left of it." Holmes replied.

"And what did you see in the fridge when you did this?" Price asked.

"Two steaks, your concoction of sauces, liquor, and a vial of Watson's blood I stole a couple of weeks ago." Holmes said.

"What?" Watson piped. "How did you obtain that?"

"Child's play," Holmes said, waving his violin bow at him.

"But for a less tidy mind like mine could I trouble you to explain?" Watson asked, hoping for some in depth explanation.

"Oh, I took it while you were sleeping." Holmes said. Watson only looked more confused.

"How did you get into my house?" He asked.

"Snuck into the window." Price answered for him. Watson put two and two together.

"Did you help him spy on me?" He asked curiously.

"Naturally," Price said. Instead of disdain, Watson reacted with a wild smile.

"You two are a fine match." Watson said. Holmes blushed slightly and Price beamed at Watson. Watson laughed, happy to see his blush instead of the apathetic attitude which was his manner in the dreams of the past two years.

An hour later Price had cooked what he could find in the fridge and the three sat at the table eating- even Holmes participated in eating his food, a rarity considering he was working on a case. Watson ate happily, watching the two interact. Mostly they discussed the case and argued about its finer points, both sounding just as intelligent and vague. Watson listened happily, absorbing all the information he could. Then the oddest thing happened. Holmes stood up and right before he walked over to the sink he affectionately grabbed Price's hand and lightly squeezed it. Watson was surprised at the sudden show of affection. It was unlike the Holmes he knew three years ago. Price briefly looked up at Holmes, something passing between them before he looked at Watson with a small smile. Watson returned the smile with a nod, so happy was he to see that his friend had found a companion.

_Oh they are a right match_, Watson thought to himself as he finished his meal, listening to Holmes tell Price that he left a head in the sink again.

~The End~


End file.
